Camps and Trails in China eBook

All of the peacocks were on the opposite side of the
river from our camp where the jungle was thickest.
On the first morning my wife and I floated down the
river on the raft for half a mile and landed to stalk
a peacock which had called frequently from a rocky
point near the water’s edge. We picked
our way through the jungle with the utmost caution
but the wary old cock either saw or heard us before
we were within range, and I caught just a glimpse
of a brilliant green neck as he disappeared into the
bushes. A second bird called on a point a half
mile farther on, but it refused to come into the open
and as we started to stalk it in the jungle we heard
a patter of feet among the dry leaves followed by
a roar of wings, and saw the bird sail over the tree
tops and alight on the summit of a bush-clad hill.

This was the only peacock which we were ever able
to flush when it had already gained cover. Usually
the birds depend entirely upon their ability to hide
or run through the bushes. After several attempts
we learned that it was impossible to stalk the peacocks
successfully. The jungle was so crisp and parched
that the dry leaves crackled at every step and even
small birds made a loud noise while scratching on
the ground.

The only way to get the peacocks was to watch for
them at the river when they came to drink in the early
morning and evening. Between two rocky points
where we had first seen the birds there was a long
curved beach of fine white sand. One morning
Heller waited on the point nearest camp while my wife
and I posted ourselves under a bush farther down the
river. We had been sitting quietly for half an
hour when we heard a scratching in the jungle.
Thinking it was a peacock feeding we turned our backs
to the water and sat motionless peering beneath the
bushes. Meanwhile, Heller witnessed an interesting
little drama enacted behind us.

An old male peacock with a splendid train stole around
the point close to the water, jumped to a high stone
within thirty yards of us and stood for a full minute
craning its beautiful green neck to get a better view
as we kneeled in front of him totally unconscious
of his presence. After he had satisfied his curiosity
he hopped off the observation pinnacle and, with his
body flattened close to the ground, slipped quietly
away. It was an excellent example of the stalker
being stalked and had Heller not witnessed the scene
we should never have known how the clever old bird
had fooled us.

The following morning we got a peahen at the same
place. Heller had concealed himself in the bushes
on one side of the point while I watched the other.
Shortly after daylight an old female sailed out of
the jungle on set wings and alighted at the water’s
edge. She saw Heller almost instantly, although
he was completely covered by the vines, and started
to fly, but he dropped her with a broken wing.
Recovering herself, she darted around the rocky point
only to meet a charge of B.B.’s from my gun.
She was a beautiful bird with a delicate crown of
slender feathers, a yellow and blue face patch and
a green neck and back, but her plumes were short and
inconspicuous when compared with those of the male.